You Call This a War, This Funny Little Thing?
by Ratin8tor
Summary: The Doctor is a hero, a man that would come from the heavens to fight the monsters, stop the bad guys, save the day and be a hero to all those around him. This is not the story of the Doctor. This is the story of the man who wasn't.
1. Chapter 1

_I don't understand? Are you kidding? Me? Of course I understand. I mean, do you call this a war, this funny little thing? This is not a war._

The man who wanted to be a doctor opened the door to his ship and stepped out onto the battlefield, scanning his surroundings. Two nations had declared war in the name of their deity and had sworn to wipe the other off the face of the planet. No doubt this patch of land was the most important thing to ever happen in the history of their civilization.

The man strode forward, ignoring what was happening around him, knowing he had a simple mission of retrieving the Dalek's beacon and leaving before they could hone in on this planet. Had he been a different man, he would have no doubt met with both parties and attempted to get them to reach a peace settlement by showing them the wonders of co-operation, of how fantastic the world can be. He would have been charming and silly and no doubt gotten into a few scrapes, but nevertheless have escaped just fine, his companion telling him how brilliant he was.

If he had been a different man.

But he wasn't that man. He was the man that ignored the battle going on around him, focusing solely on the objective. He needed that beacon to track down the Dalek mother-ship, nothing more. These people could squabble over some dirt and trees.

He paused, ever so briefly, to see one of the natives lying dead in a puddle, his once pristine uniform splashed with blood. No doubt this young man thought he was doing something honourable, something that mattered, that history would forever remember what would happen here.

The man looked sadly at the corpse, before quickly moving on, because if he didn't do something soon there wouldn't be any history to speak of. Attempts at peace making wouldn't be a valuable use of time.

And as he ran back through the same battlefield, dodging the gunfire from both sides, explosions threatening to throw himself off his feet, he wished the Doctor was here to put an end to all this. That the Doctor was here to do the right thing. That he was here to be a hero. As the man dove into the safety of his TARDIS he wished the Doctor would just appear.

But the Doctor wasn't here.


	2. Chapter 2

_I fought in a bigger war than you will ever know._

The schemer stepped out of his ship, already planning out what he was going to say to those he came across, how he was going to influence the election to favour the candidate that would best help this planet in the upcoming war with the Daleks, a war a mere thousand years away. He'd already meddled before, doing some nudges here and there, to make sure that history went the way he wanted.

It was the thirtieth anniversary of the war, one that had been seen as a major turning point in this civilizations history. Millions had died, and all that had been gained had been lost in various treaties and government changes over the last few decades, but still they remembered how terrible the way was.

The schemer did what he usually did, made some token gestures, acknowledge how sad it was that such a catastrophic event could happen, made sure the right people heard the right things at the right time. But, deep in his hearts, he couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous. After all, they'd only lost a few million. The schemer had set into motion a plan that lost a few trillion not too long ago, but nevertheless had stopped a crucial advance in the war and pushed the Daleks back a little bit further. If he looked at the big picture, the ends totally justified the means.

He kept trying to think that as he stood during the ceremony, as men and women talked about how they'd lost fathers, grandfathers, brothers, cousins, uncles, someone, in that last war. How the pain was still with them, all those years later, and that some mere stone couldn't convey the loss.

The schemer tried not to think of that as he helped get the right person elected, before slipping into the TARDIS to prepare the next part of his plan. The Doctor, the little question-marked sweater man, he wouldn't have done the things he'd done. He wouldn't have believed that such a high cost would have been worth it. He'd have been smart enough to figure out another way.

But the Doctor wasn't here.


	3. Chapter 3

_I did worse things than you could ever imagine,_

A proud, arrogant man stepped out of his ship and confidently strode into the office of the president. Sure, he looked different now, far older than what would have been likely give how little time had seemingly passed, but he was still young enough to have some passing resemblance.

The president greeted the arrogant man warmly, shaking his hands, offering him tea. The arrogant man said nice things in return, repaying the flattery, buttering him up real good. He asked about what had happened recently, making an excuse that he had been away down south, where not many people dare venture.

The President eagerly unveiled his plans to the arrogant man, detailing how they were going to easily conquer those around them, and create a more unified state. That the battles would be swift and brutal, and would crush any resistance that stood in their way. That it wouldn't be long till the flags of the world were just one flag.

The arrogant man said nothing, feeling anger and despair in his hearts. He knew what was going to happen and, had he been a different man, he would have started shouting at the president, pulling forth words yet popularized but nevertheless appropriate from the thesaurus he kept in his mind, drowning the man out with his sharp, bombastic wit. He would have stood up to the injustices before him, boasted how he was willing to do the right thing, and act like the hero the world wanted to be.

But the arrogant man was not that man. He was instead a man who knew that everything had happened just as he had planned it, that he really was so smart that he could predict how stupid people would act, that he really was a genius.

He just wasn't a good man.

As he advised the President on his plans, gently giving him tips about what to do based on hypothetical future scenarios that he surely couldn't have known to be true but nevertheless could happen and should be prepared for, he was disgusted with himself. The Doctor wouldn't have let any of this happen. The Doctor would have stopped this then and there. The Doctor would have done the right thing.

But the Doctor wasn't here.


	4. Chapter 4

_and when I close my eyes... I hear more screams than anyone could ever be able to count!_

There should have been another way. There should have always been another way. Had the Doctor been here, he'd no doubt have found that other way.

But the old man, who looked like a young man, couldn't think of the other way. He could only think of the way that helped him win. And what helped him win was the suffering that was going on in front of him.

The President had already taken his own life, and soon his enemies would recapture the land, and a glorious future for the planet would begin here. One that lead them to developing space travel, to becoming a powerful force in the galaxy, to eventually becoming one of the allies the Time Lords counted on when it came to fighting the Daleks. But in order to get to that point, this all had to happen. Everything the young man had set up beforehand. Including this.

Once, after he had finished his business, he had popped back in to see a memorial that recorded the names of everyone that had been unfairly persecuted during the war. Those that had been attacked, enslaved, murdered. All those that had suffered in a war to fight against evil.

He made it a point to remember every single one of those names. Every single person that he had let suffered due to the decisions he made. He had stood in front of that memorial for a very long time, reading and re-reading the list, making sure not to forget anyone. They didn't deserve to be forgotten.

Not that it made the guilt any easier, when he saw those names in the flesh, begging and pleading for help. Not that it did anything to soothe his conscience, as he was forced to walk by, urging the President on while helping his enemies prepare to take him down. Knowing that there were many other ways he could have done it.

The Doctor wouldn't have hesitated. The Doctor was a man who would put the life of just one other person in front of his own if he could, because that's the right thing to do. The Doctor would have put a stop to this a long time ago.

But the Doctor wasn't here.


	5. Chapter 5

_And do you know what you do with all that pain? Shall I tell you where you put it?_

The traveller opened the door to the glistening, pristine city, one on the verge of intergalactic travel. Their scientists were hard at work trying to create a ship that could break the speed of light and get them to places they could only dream of.

Had the traveller being a man with a floppy hair and long scarf he'd have no doubt engrained himself into the local culture, made a few new friends, been a bit of a bohemian. But the traveller was not that man. He was a man with a simple purpose, to help the scientist crack the code and build their ship.

As such, there was no time for sight-seeing. It was a simple mission, in and out, back to the fight. He was to drop off the beacon he had picked up so many years ago, which held the secrets the scientists needed. He couldn't afford to get attached.

But nevertheless he found himself making another trip to the monument, now holographic in nature, each name having a picture and bio associated with it. Those that had known the victims describing them and making sure that they weren't forgotten. The traveller made sure to remember them, so that they weren't forgotten.

It was a picture of a little girl that stood out the most. During the campaign trail she'd come up to him, all bright eyed and innocent, asking the traveller a question about the strange device in his hand. The traveller had said it was a magic wand, and that he was a wizard, in an attempt to feel like his old self, even though his hearts weren't in it.

She was one of the first to die, way before her time. An innocent soul, taken from this world by a cruel mad man, and the monster who helped him.

The Doctor would no doubt have done the right thing, whisked her away to safety, or at the very least try to comfort her more on the campaign trail by acting like a giant kid. The Doctor would have been young and innocent and happy and put her at ease.

But the Doctor wasn't there. And he wasn't here either.


	6. Chapter 6

_You hold it tight... Til it burns your hand._

The suave gentleman exited his ship and meet the Leader in the command room. He was older now, much older than the last time they'd met. His hair was whiter, the wrinkles a bit more pronounced. Nevertheless he carried himself with airs and graces befitting a man of his age.

He was polite to the Leader, eating the cheese, drinking the wine, discussing battle strategy. Right now the war was being fought on the colonies at the edge of the solar system. A few minor skirmishes, a few hit and runs, but nothing too serious. A deployment of a few million troops would keep the enemy at bay.

The gentleman said nothing, remembering a time where he partnered up with the military, knowing that he couldn't exactly feel guilty about doing the same thing here. Except... this Leader was no brigadier. This Leader didn't care how many men died, as long as it kept the planet safe. A bureaucrat that cared more for his own comfort than anything else.

As the gentleman finished his wine, finalized the plans, said his goodbyes, he made sure to go back to the monument. Budget cuts had meant it wasn't as fabulous as it was in the past. The holographic projectors barely worked, and most visitors were uninterested in a bunch of people who died ages ago.

The gentleman continued to look at the names, engraving them into his heart. He knew that none of this would have happened without their sacrifice, and that it was his duty to remember them, to make sure they weren't just discarded like so many others. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it stung, he refused to ignore his faults, to run away like he did all those centuries ago, to let happen what happened when he could have so easily changed things when he was retrieving the beacon.

The Doctor would have no doubt bucked authority, even while working with it. He would have done things his own way, rather than just meekly complying because he needed this ally more than he needed his morals. The Doctor would have done the right thing.

But the Doctor wasn't here.


	7. Chapter 7

_And you say this - no one else will ever have to live like this. No one else will ever have to feel this pain._

The hobo ran onto the battlefield, dodging laser fire, desperately trying to get his homing beacon to work. He'd lost his TARDIS five years ago, a temporal disruptor having thrown it into the time stream, leaving him stranded and homeless in a world waged by war.

He'd tried to fight the evil that had arrived on this planet, that was spreading across it like a plague. Time and again he had tried to repeal it, to keep the inhabitants safe, as the small raids grew into an all-out invasion force. To stop what had once been a few minor conflicts on planets at the far edge of the solar system be something that was effecting those living here.

But in many ways he had caused this to happen. By accelerating the planet's development he'd put a target on their backs, one that the Daleks had no problem shooting. As the Daleks realized that this new species was going to be a threat they began to divert more and more of their attention to it.

In some ways it's what the Time Lords needed, as it gave them a chance to regroup and re-plan while the areas of the most strategic importance were left less heavily guarded. That the Daleks weren't making strides into key vital areas because they were sending their forces elsewhere.

The hobo had tried to learn how to live with the people on this planet, to protect them as the situation got worse, to keep them alive as martial law turned into mob rule. But at this point the war for the planet had long been lost. This was just the Daleks cleaning up.

As the TARDIS finally appeared in view the hobo dashed into it, quickly taking off before the Daleks could react. It wasn't till he had sent the beacon back in time a few hundred years that he relaxed, knowing that it would be there for him to pick up during that first great war, for him to later give back to the planet, for him to later use as an escape plan. A temporal loop he had set up for himself without even realizing it at the time.

The Doctor wouldn't have fled as easily as he had though. The Doctor would have stayed and fight, battled against these evil creatures, done the right thing. He wouldn't have been a coward.

The Doctor wasn't here. Only the man was. But for too long he'd been hiding away from the responsibilities of his beliefs, trying to deny who he was. The endless fighting was getting him nowhere. He had to end it. He had to make it so that others could live free from all this.

The Doctor wasn't here. The man was. And he had a duty to make sure this happened no more.


	8. Chapter 8

_Not on my watch._

The old man stood, wearily, in his TARDIS, looking at the scanner. When he was younger he would have ran outside without a care, but now...

He continued to check his instruments, making sure it was safe. The radiation was bad, but had died down considerably over the last few thousand years, and he'd be safe as long as he didn't have any prolonged exposure. He didn't plan to stay long anyway.

The deathly silence whistled through the destroyed buildings, untouched by vegetation. The organic bomb, capable of wiping out any living organism, had certainly stopped the Daleks dead in their tracks. The old man had been there, days before it had been set off, arguing with the Leader that it didn't need to happen, that there was another way.

The Leader looked into his eyes and said that no more would her planet suffer. No more would her people be slaves. That death was a better alternative to everything the Daleks were doing to the planet. They were not going to make a spaceship out of it, using it to spread their hate and destruction. She would no doubt suffer for her sins in the afterlife, but she had accepted that, she was willing to pay the price. She was willing to be the destroyer of the world.

The Leader... she had been so young, relatively speaking. She had had her whole life in front of her, but now she had been all that was left of the resistance, the last remnants of the government holed up in bunker besieged by Daleks. In charge by virtue of being one of the few people left who knew how to operate the bomb that she had created.

The old man stood in front of the memorial, eyes glistening with tears. The names there were only a fraction of those that had been killed by the Daleks. The large wars that had seemed so important at the time, worth remembering so that no one forgot what had happened, they were nothing compared to what had happened to the planet.

The names the old man had memorized, they weren't nearly enough. They were just a small fraction. He thought he had done terrible things at the start, but that was nothing, nothing compared to what he'd done in the name of peace and sanity. Nor what he was about to do.

There was a blank part in the memorial, having been deliberately left there when it was first created. It was a tribute to all those that had died nameless, as records hadn't been kept. To all the men who died in some ditch, to the women and children that had been slaughtered in mass. A reminder that war can have an impact on everyone, but not everyone could be represented.

The old man got out his hand-held device and added one last name to the list, one last individual to be remembered when it came to the war. A name of someone who had died protecting others, being a hero, being a great man. Underneath the name he left a message, a promise, made by a man who wish he could be as good as the name he had inscribed. A man who wished he could have lived up to the title in front of him.

He took one last look around the empty planet, before strolling back to his ship, knowing what he had to do. Knowing the message he had to spread so that everyone, Time Lord and Dalek alike, knew what was about to happen. To realize what they had caused.

As a familiar wheezing sound filled the air, kicking up dust, the monument remained unchanged save for the four simple words forever placed upon it.

 _The Doctor._

 _No More._


End file.
